𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐍𝐄 [𝐉𝐉𝐊]

17

[Jungkook's POV]

Today’s the day.

The engagement day. The big event everyone’s been frantically preparing for over the past few weeks. And when I say “everyone,” I mean everyone — especially Y/n’s mom, Haneul.

The woman has been running around like a headless chicken since the crack of dawn, and it’s absolutely hilarious to watch.

I’ve never seen someone be so… frenzied in my entire life. It’s like she’s trying to organize an entire military operation, and we’re all just foot soldiers who can’t get anything right.

I’m sitting on the couch, lazily watching as Haneul darts from one end of the room to the other, shouting orders at anyone who dares cross her path.

Y/n’s dad, Minjun, is trying to stay out of the line of fire, hiding behind some relatives who have already flocked in to attend the engagement.

Smart move, honestly.

"Y/n! Jungkook! Why are you both just sitting there?!" Haneul's voice suddenly rings out, loud and sharp, cutting through the buzz of the room. I wince, turning my head just in time to see her storming toward us, her hands flailing wildly.

"Get up! We have so much to do! The guests will be arriving in an hour, and you're just sitting around like... like... lazy bums!"

I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. Y/n, on the other hand, looks like a deer caught in headlights. She jumps to her feet, all flustered and panicked. “Mom, I—”

“Don’t ‘Mom’ me! Do you see these flowers?” Haneul waves her arms toward the extravagant floral arrangements that are scattered through out the room.

“They’re wilting! Do you want wilted flowers at your engagement?"

Y/n stares at the flowers, blinking in confusion. “They look fine to me—”

“Fine?! Are you blind, child? They’re practically begging for water!” Haneul grabs Y/n’s arm and drags her toward the flowers, completely ignoring me as I try to stifle my laughter.

Y/n looks back at me, her eyes wide with helplessness, but I just shrug, mouthing, Good luck.

“Jungkook!” Haneul barks, snapping me out of my amusement. I sit up straighter, trying to look serious. “You’re not off the hook either. Do you have any idea how much needs to be done? You’re just sitting there, like a statue! You’re the groom!”

“Yes, ma’am,” I say, my voice filled with fake seriousness, trying to hide the grin that’s threatening to break out. “What do you need me to do?”

She squints at me, clearly not buying my tone. “Just… just make sure everything’s perfect! Look at the plates! They’re not shiny enough! And the cake—has anyone checked on the cake? I swear, if that thing isn’t perfect, I’ll—”